Life Lessons Never Learnt
by Dark Lord Fox
Summary: AU A victorious Voldemort has a talk with Dumbledore about everyones favorite green-eyed wizard. Told from Voldemort's POV


Disclaimer: What does it matter, even if I told you that I created Harry Potter, you wouldn't believe me. No one ever does.

Life Lessons Never Learnt

Voldemort's POV

The year is 1993, the setting is Slytherin Manor, and I now rule all of Wizarding Britain. That being said, **I am the greatest Dark Lord that has ever been**. Its sweeping statements like that I use to keep my deatheaters under the impression I'm slightly insane. Why do I do this? Well if my followers followed a sane man who didn't crucio his minions for the smallest infraction, they would rise up against me. I can't spend every morning wondering which faithful minion poisoned my tea that day. They would also notice all the subtle ways I get them to fight each other. I had the Malfoys and the Lestraunges fighting each other for years. But sadly, it became a real problem and I was forced to send Lucius on a suicide mission. Course then that Draco brat tried to poison my entire inner circle. Stupid git.

But enough about my minions, what I'm wondering about now is what the man in front of me has to say. If you're wondering who that pile of stained bright colored robes is, its Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Head of the Wizengamot, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, etcetera, excreta.

It wasn't really that hard getting him here, I just controlled the traitor Snape through his mark and stunned my old teacher. Snape is right now 'enjoying' a torture session with Bellatrix,. Ah Bellatrix, and people say I'm crazy.

Now, if you know anything of Dumbledore's and my past histories together, you may be wondering why he is still alive. Am I going to gloat at him, well no. There's no one around to impress and I'm not stupid enough to do that just for my personal entertainment. I usually only torture people to create fear for those watching. Machiavelli wrote that people are best controlled through a mixture of fear and love. I could never do the love; the stuff makes me nauseous, even reading about it.

I'm getting a little off topic here, so I'll just tell you that I need some information Dumbledore has about an enigma that has plagued me for eleven years. Any guesses on what the enigma is? I'll give you a clue or two, ha, a little rhyme! The year is 1993 and if he were still alive, he'd be thirteen.

If you haven't figured out who I'm talking about by now, you've got to be dumber that Crabbe or that other bloke. No, Harry Potter is the topic of discussion.

I watch as my spell wakes up my former transfiguration instructor. He's missing a lens in his spectacles, but he still manages to focus on my face. Good, he didn't soil himself.

"Tom, I-"

I actually enjoy watching as he spasms from my crucio. He knows I hate my muggle/mortal name, so why does he still use it? Does he not realize that I will punish him for it?

Oh look, he's crying, too bad! I used to cry too, when I lived in that horrid orphanage. I out grew it, but it seems some people never outgrow their weakness.

"Dumbledore, you will answer my questions. Do you understand?"

"Tom, you-"

It appears some people never learn, so I raise my wand. "Cru-"

"Alright, if you insist I will call you Voldemort. Just know you will never defeat the good in people."

It sounded weak but I replied anyway.

"I do not need to bother with your so called 'goodness' in people if I can teach them fear. Now, answer my question or I promise you will live the rest of your life in agony."

He nods so I continue, "Why was Harry Potter able to destroy my body on Halloween night, 1980?"

He was clearly surprised by the question, but dutifully answered, "It was a mixture of love and a prophecy."

That's what the Unspeakables told me after I took over the ministry. Nothing new. At first, I was a little surprised the prophecy didn't allow me to kill him, but then I heard the part about, what was it? _Mark him as his equal._

"What happened to the boy after my body was destroyed?"

"I took him to his aunt and uncle's."

"Why?"

"I knew you weren't dead and your followers were still strong. He needed to be protected. So I used blood magic."

"Tut tut. Blood magic Dumbledore? That's in the dark arts. And you chose an infant boy as an anchor? I don't think even I would do such a thing."

"Yes, Harry would have a constant strain on his magic but it would be for his own good."

I sneered and spoke with out thinking, "Yes, just like the orphanage was for my own good."

Shit, I should never talk about the past. Vengeful reminiscing is for weaker men and I am the Dark Lord. And now Dumbledore is looking at me with, what that in his eye, pity? How dare he pity me, He will not survive past this hour and I will rule the wizarding world for eternity. I should raise my wand against him but, no, no. I might overdue it and I need his mind for questioning.

"How did his relatives treat him?"

Dumbledore looks like he wants to say something else, but I raise my wand threateningly.

"When I left him there, Minerva told me that they were 'the worst kind of muggles'. I wish I had listened to her. I believed that the bonds of family would make them treat him like a son."

I indulge myself and sneer at him. And this is coming from the man who's own brother broke his nose.

I wave my arm for him to continue.

"The last time I visited, Vernon Dursley, Harry's uncle, told they had been attempting to 'beat the freakishness out of him.' From accounts I collected from the neighbors and school, he was beaten, malnourished, and overall mistreated."

"And you did nothing about this this?"

"I…I didn't know until it was too late."

The excuse must have sounded weak, even to himself for Dumbledore hid his face.

"You say the last time you visited. I assume that was after he had-"

"Yes." I should crucio him for interrupting but my curiosity got the better of me.

"How did he die exactly? There are not medical records and his death cirtificant does not contain a reason."

"He-" Dumbledore seemed to chocked up to continue so I mercifully allowed him a second to collect himself. He started sobbing but continued. "He looked so little curled up in his cupboard."

"His what?"

"His, his cupboard under the stairs. That's where his Aunt and Uncle kept him."

So the boy-who-lived, the one destined to maybe defeat me had been cast aside by the very man responsible for his wellbeing.

"Continue" I commanded.

"He-, he had the word freak written over and over again on his walls."

It was an interesting tale but I wanted what I brought him here for.

"His death Dumbledore, how did he die?"

"His Uncle had been hitting him, trying to beat the magic out of him.'

Foolish muggles.

"And his Uncle killed him?"

"No, he threw him in the cupboard."

"And he died of his injuries?"

"No, they weren't life threatening. He, he couldn't take it-"

Dumbledore had to stop at this point and couldn't continue but I could figure it out.

Harry Potter was the first wizard to use accidental magic for suicide. It was unheard of, beyond understanding. A body's natural magic will keep the user alive no matter the cost to itself. To die by his own magic- It was inconceivable.

I look at the wizened man before me, shoulders still shaking from sobs.

"You never do learn, do you Dumbledore."

He looked up at me.

"For Hogwarts' most celebrated Headmaster, you still haven't learned important life lessons. Love is not some mystical force that makes all people good."

I continued, sneering at the fool, the old fool before me.

"You never learned. YOU ARE NOT GOD DUMBLEDORE!"

I can't help it, he deserves it.

"YOU CANNOT PLAY WITH PEOPLE'S LIVES."

I stop shouting and grow sad.

"The world is not your plaything. It is your fault Dumbledore, your fault Harry is dead."

The green spell leaps from my wand almost before I speak the two words.

"Your fault Dumbledore," I continue in a whisper. "Your fault I am."

Author's Note: Man, Dumbledore really messed shit up. Voldemort comes off a little crazy and that's because he is. I enjoyed writing this but had trouble with the ending. I'm still not entirely satisfied.

Review, play hopscotch or drink scotch. Just have a blast.


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